I’ll start with the good news: I booked a national commercial.
Here’s what I probably shouldn’t tell you. The last time this happened was almost ten years ago.
When I first moved to LA, I knew it would be a battle. There are a million crabs in this bucket and every single one is clawing its way to the top, crushing anything that gets in its path.
Somehow I got lucky. Six months into my new life and career, I landed a big commercial. It played for eighteen months and I won’t tell you how much money I made. But I will tell you I could’ve bought a brand new Honda or a decent racehorse (which would have been a brilliant way to bypass LA traffic.)
One year later, I booked another huge spot.
This one was for Hyundai for the Superbowl and they made sure it was seen in the most high-profile settings. The fourth quarter of an extremely tight championship game between the Steelers and the Packers. It ran again right before they announced Best Picture at The Oscars. I was sure that so much exposure would lead to all kinds of jobs.
Only it didn’t. That was the last time I would act in a commercial until this current one I just shot.
For the next few years, I auditioned for hundreds of commercials. I got callbacks. A lot of them. I was put “on avail” a bunch of times.
Thoughts of success played over and over again in my brain.
“Goodbye, peasants! Great knowing you but I’m done with day jobs. From now on, my career can only go up. I’m about to touch the moon!”
But that’s where it stopped.
So often this invisible hand would dangle a giant bag of money over my head. I could smell those fat green checks filling up my mailbox. I could imagine the financial freedom of all those residuals. I would even play the moment over and over again when I walked away from my day job forever. (Oftentimes in a private plane filled with drugs because fuck it, it’s my fantasy.)
My confidence began to slip. Before every audition, I would tell myself that this is the one. The losing streak is about to be slashed as I land not only a commercial but an entire campaign. I’ll be the new Verizon guy, only people will like me. Years later that changed to being the new Sprint Guy because this business is fickle and unoriginal.
After a while, it started to wear on me. I got to the point where I figured I would never book a commercial again. I began to wonder what was wrong with me. That being said, I never turned down an audition.
On one occasion I received a callback for a Sonic ad while I was at Coachella. My agent, being as rad as he is, told me to, “do a little less drugs that night and get back here in the morning.”
And I did. Not the fewer drugs part. I still went hard. I woke up at 6 AM the next morning and drove the two and a half hours back to LA.
“Hi. I’m Alex Hooper and I drove back from Coachella to book this commercial.” The producers laughed and asked if I was serious.
“100%. And as soon as we’re done here I’m driving right back.”
And I did. I’m that dedicated to my career and music festivals.
I didn’t book it. And by the way, I didn’t even have lines in the callback. I went in, they told me to “react to this thing happening, but don’t do too much.” I did it one time. That was it. Welcome to the wonderful world of advertising.
Over these last ten years, I’ve called in sick to work countless times. I’ve lost thousands of dollars in wages in the hopes that I would win the lottery again.
Because in the end, that’s what commercial auditioning is. It’s a game of luck.
You can be the greatest actor in the world and everyone in the room loves you. Then word comes down from above that they need someone who is 5’9” and you happen to be 5’8”.
Of course, you’ll never find this out. You never learn why you didn’t get something. But that’s part of the lifestyle you signed up for.
It’s all about your look. You have to fit into this tiny little box and you have to be exactly what the execs envisioned when they were writing it. You aren’t changing minds with your brilliant performance. In this world, talent simply doesn’t matter.
And that’s why I never gave up. Rejections hurt. But it’s never personal. You’re either what they want or you’re not. Suck it up, take it on the chin. Forget it, and move on.
There were plenty of times when I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to forfeit a day’s work on the off-chance that this could be the one. But you have to. Any audition could break the streak.
YOU HAVE TO GO.
I didn’t move out here to sell tickets at Universal Studios. Sure, I’ve been doing it for eleven years because stand-up comedy is difficult and my landlord won’t accept drink tickets for rent.
Every audition is an opportunity to break you out of obscurity and destitution. One job can pay you tens of thousands of dollars and you only have to work for a day. It’s amazing. Which is also why it’s so goddamn hard.
At any point, I could have thrown in the towel. I could have said fuck it. I don’t want to keep feeling like a loser. But I didn’t. Because it has nothing to do with me. One day I’ll be the perfect man for the job. I’ll get to feel that victory as it shoots throughout my entire body like I just ate a magic star in Super Mario Bros.
That day is here. My ten-year non-booking streak has come to an end. In my heart, I always knew this day would come. I didn’t want it to take this long; no one does. But that’s how it goes.
Everyone that moves to Hollywood makes it. As long as you don’t quit. And oh boy, you are going to want to. You will have moments that will test every fiber of your being. You’ll contemplate moving back to your hometown to become the manager of a Chili’s because benefits are enticing and fajitas are delicious.
Don’t.
Stay in.
Believe.
Your dreams will come true. Only the smallest percent of people have true success in their first ten years in LA. You’re going to experience a massive amount of pain and failure. However, you’ll also have a few wins along the way. Wins that will give you that magic star feeling that all of us are chasing. LA can be the ultimate tease. She loves to kiss you, but it’s going to take a lot more for her to agree to fuck.
Be persistent. Chase down every audition you can get. Never give up hope. The only way you won’t make it is if you tell yourself it’s impossible.
Be patient. You’re closer than you’ve ever been.
Have condoms ready. When that day comes and Hollywood takes off its pants for you, there’s no way you’re going to prematurely ejaculate. You’re going to make love for the rest of your life.